Alice, Puppet Mistress
by Kichikitsune
Summary: Alice told her family about Wonderland and the Looking-Glass, and she was deemed silly.Many thought her strange and she ducked into her own world, growing dark.The mental house is mentioned, and she snaps.14 and out for blood from 2 worlds, Alice is back.
1. Believing

Summary: Alice was ignored after she told of her Wonderland adventure some years ago. After the Looking-Glass feat, her family began to worry as to the girl's sanity and attempted to hush her "nonsense" up. She built her own world within, and grew dark. When the mental house is discussed, she snaps. Now, 15 years old and out for blood, Alice seeks to execute her twisted fantasies, through the 2 worlds none believed in but her, manipulating others in a way that fames her the "Puppet Mistress"

Disclaimer: Alice, Wonderland, and the Looking Glass characters all belong to Lewis Carroll. However, I copyright Alice's new persona and this storyline to me. The twisted versions of characters are somewhat mine. Please don't copy them

A/N: Hia! This is my first Alice in Wonderland fic. You must know, THIS STORY IS FOR PEOPLE WHO HAVE READ BOTH THROUGH THE LOOKING GLASS AND WONDERLAND. I hate how Disney mashed those together. Anyway, if you don't know the where the worlds separate, I think you'll get the idea after a bit. Honorable mention to Shaun, who inspired much of this story and filled in more gaps then I could even see! Thank you editor in chief! Here goes.

Chapter 1, Believing

The darkness was utterly complete. It was oppressive, it was eerie, but it was complete. The only light exuded from a fair haired young woman at its center, her bleached white apron stark against the black backdrop. Her lilac dress produced almost no contrast to her ivory skin and those pale yellow tresses that hung in waves halfway down her back. Her cool, crystalline eyes cast their blue gaze out frantically for something unseen. Her black Mary-Jane shoes made not a sound against the dark flooring. Tugging nervously at the black, silk ribbon in her yellow hair, it became clear that her eyes were fixated upon another, growing light. The silhouette of a black-and-white cat made itself prominent against the light.

"Dinah… Dinah? Don't get lost in the light, silly kitty, they'll take you away.. No… Dinah.. Dinah come back!!!" The young woman, Alice, called desperately, velveteen voice growing shrill and unpleasant. The dark and the light swirled about her in muddled confusion and….

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"Alice, Dinah is dead. You know that. Now stop being such a silly girl!" Alice's sister stared at the girl, the young lady, the schizophrenic freak. She tossed her head in utter disdain, chocolate ringlets following the movement like whipcord.

"Dinah's not dead… she never died! Can't you see her, Anita? Look at her. She wants you to pet her Anita. Pet her," Alice's blank blue eyes quested over her sister's skirts as if Dinah was there, purring and rubbing up against her knee. Her limp, gaunt frame lay in her ornately embroidered armchair as a dead body might in its coffin. Alice's customary lilac dress, not quite as blue as it had been years ago, and petticoats hung quite still against her legs, just touching her knees. Only the girl's eerie, large blue eyes and those small red lips dared move. Anita set down her knitting things in exasperation at her fourteen-year-old sister's apparent "silliness".

"Father, Alice is at it again, telling lies and the like!" Heavy footfalls could be heard nearing the lavishly decorated living room. A husky man appeared in the doorframe, looking down his hawk-nose at Alice, his furrowed brow expressing deep displeasure. Alice looked up at him with a fathomless grin.

"Dinah's teeth have grown quite long, Father. Anita says that Dinah isn't here. Tell her that she's lying, Father. Dinah's there. Can't you see her?" Though her words begged, Alice's voice wasn't pleading one. It was unsettlingly cold, as was that mirthless grin spread across her petite, pale face. That stare obviously disturbed her father. Alice had been so… so innocent, and that had been twisted so harshly…

"You have Black Kitty and White Kitty, Alice! Dinah is dead! Now go to your room. No dinner for you tonight, Alice. If this nonsense keeps up young lady, I'll take Dinah's kittens away!" The man had a tendency to lose his temper with his younger daughter of late, and more because her turn for the worse seemed permanent and much more real then the assumed "nonsense". He watched tensely as Alice got to her feet, her grin reduced to a small, secret smile. Those liquid blue eyes met his brown ones with a distinct carelessness present within them.

"Oh Daddy I never asked for dinner. Wouldn't it be strange, Daddy, if everyone answered questions that had never been asked? Then everybody would be quite out of sorts. The wolf wouldn't ask the deer if it wanted to die, and then the deer would be dead!" White stockings were suddenly stark against the black of the cat rubbing up against Alice's legs, almost as if the kitty agreed with what she was saying full heartedly. It did nothing to help the situation at hand.

"Alice, to your room, NOW!" her father bellowed, baritone voice unforgiving in its order. He had no patience for anymore of these strange musings, he even found them unsettling. Alice strode past him, almost floating. Her hard shoes made only the slightest of sounds against the Oriental rug. Her sister looked quite pleased that the disturbance had been removed.

"You know, Father, Dinah's teeth have grown quite long. Wouldn't it be a pity if she bit you, and you bled red blood until there wasn't any left? How much blood can one bleed, I wonder?" The said Father watched Alice go, unable to say a word. The girl's own words had been addressing him, it was clear; however, the way her eyes never fell upon him was strange, and even her sister had picked up on it. They both watched her leave and neither one could help thinking that she had been speculated how many ways her father could die. There was a long, uncomfortable pause that further distorted the usual order of things in the manse.

"Father, something has to be done about her. Why you and Mother have tolerated these… games of hers for so very long, I've not the slightest clue." Anita sat back in her stiff armchair, a hand resting lightly on her knee. "I'm beginning to think," she began again after a pause that made it clear that her father had no intention of directly replying, "that Alice isn't being silly anymore. This has gone on much too long, these…these fragments of stories and these sick anecdotes concerning subjects that a young lady should not know about, much less think about so actively! " The eighteen year old was done, and her fingers clenched her knitting at this point, slightly heeled shoes burying themselves into the rug. Whether she cared about her sister's mental wellbeing or her own, it was hard to tell.

"I know, Anita. You're mother and I have been talking about…." He sighed, his brow furrowing into a conglomeration of unflattering wrinkles. Alice's mother was close enough to hear the conversation and made her way over quickly to join a conversation of utmost importance.

"Anita we've decided to have a doctor come take a look at Alice. She's hardly herself."

"She's hardly a person, anymore, Samantha," corrected her husband sadly, "She's grown so distant and I'm sure I know what the doctor will say. She isn't stable mentally. We'll have to send her away. Samantha, Anita, you both know that today is a good day for her. She screams often in the night, and talks to us about graphic death. More importantly, she says she lives in Wonderland and the Looking-Glass House, and she won't come out until we leave her alone. I think the mental institute would be the best place to put her. Her behavior is ripping apart the family. We cannot have company over anymore." As he finished, he knew that the vote on what to do with Alice was at this point unanimous. What he didn't know was that Alice had been listening.

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"They're all the same, Kitty. They all smell like filth and waste and sweat and blood, but every time I try to get away they get mad, Kitty. Why do you suppose that is? Dinah is quite displeased with them and their evil habits. She says that I need to go back to Wonderland, but Father just won't let me out of the house. It quite flusters me" Alice's small hand traveled down the length of the black cat's back. The cat, unlike the rest of the family, enjoyed Alice's company so long as she wasn't screaming or ripping the heads off of her dolls and throwing them at the walls.

"And do you know what's strange, Kitty? They just won't let me go into the family room anymore. They didn't like how I would stand in front of that pretty looking-glass for so long. That's what they said, Kitty. I think they don't want me to leave. They'll keep me here forever and ever where the stars don't talk to me and the walls don't smile…: Today was one of those days where Alice was feeling ambitious. Usually, her words tumbled from her mouth, poorly thought out, or at least it sounded that way to the rest of the world. Kitty looked like she was listening, so all was well with the world-

"I think that the mental institute would be the best place to put her. Her behavior is ripping this family apart. We cannot have company over anymore."

Those words floated into Alice's words and the girl stiffened. Kitty leapt to her feet. The cat had learned early on how to read Alice's moods, being the only one who would stay with her for so very long and this mood was not a pleasant one.

She began to laugh in a manner that suggested lunacy. "I'm ripping this family apart? Why, how could I possibly do that? I've not the strength to rip. Only the big cat with sharp claws and a smile of sharp teeth can do that…." Her voice had grown distant, quiet and utterly distant. "Dinah, I know. You needn't tell me what has to be done. I must go back to Wonderland… and the Looking- Glass House. Dinah, how do you suppose I will be in two places at once? Oh, I understand now, Dinah. I know what I have to do. I don't want to go to the mental house, I really don't. I'll bring Black Kitty, and White Kitty, and leave the rest to rot." And then that fathomless, chilling voice stopped, and Alice got very, very quiet.

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The family's utter silence was as oppressive as the darkness Alice liked so very much. Of course, the family wasn't used to this…. And they were having a hard time grasping what had been presented among them. Alice had been so nice as a young girl. Things had changed…. But how could it be so very simple? It couldn't. Just as Anita was about to agree with her father, the subject of their conversation appeared in the doorway. Alice was wearing a black dress, less pleated then her lilac one. It was meant for funerals or other more or less solemn occasions. When she suggested to her mother that she wear it whenever she pleased, she was swiftly boxed in the ears. It hadn't helped matters much. Her apron was white, as it always had been; only now no red lined it or its pockets. She was holding one of the swords from her father's collection, and she was smiling an eerily sweet smile. Everyone turned to look at her, and then their gazes quested over to the long, heavy weapon at hand.

"Alice, what did Father say about his swords?" asked her mother warily.

"They shine like the stars and are red when bloodied. Blood cleanses the metal… doesn't it Daddy? Do you think it wants to drink blood?" Her father didn't dare grab at her lest he lose his hand for the stupid movement. The room's atmosphere grew impossibly tense. "Mother, may I see the looking-glass? It's been so very long since I've seen it."

"Alice, dear, you know….," her older daughter and her husband shot her warning looks that seemed both utterly agonized and completely torn with indecision. "Alright." She sighed, and for the first time in over two years, Samantha swung open the living-room door for Alice to pass unabated. As Alice twirled by wearing a dreamy façade, her mother drew up her skirts as if avoiding contact of some hideous, slimy beast. Alice took no notice, straightening out her own black dress as she went along, adjusting the collar now and then. The sword never left her hand, and that sickening smile never left her face. It was because of that smile that her nursemaids had left, because of her constant talk of interesting deaths that many servants refused to clean or work in the same place as her.

"How doth the little crocodile…" she began to sing, crawling onto the ledge above the hearth without waiting. How had she done it before? Ah, that was all she had to do…. Imagine, remember… and it became.

"Improve his shining tail…" Her fingers ran over the glass and her family stared. No, Alice was not the daughter or the sister that they had known for so long. Where was that little, inquisitive girl now, they had to wonder? They watched in disturbed silence as Alice closed her cool blue eyes and grit her teeth.

"And pour the waters of the Nile..." Things were coming back to the girl now… The chess pieces, her having been the red queen for a time, the talking flowers, Tweedledee, and Tweedledum. They were all so very real. The girl could fabricate them in her mind. Alice had gotten good at that, making dreams real.

"On every...golden….scale…" A finger slipped through the glass and that quiet, acidic smile turned into a wide, incomprehensible grin.

"How cheerfully he seems to grin,

How neatly spreads his claws,

And welcomes little fishes in,

With gently smiling jaws!"

Alice's head whipped around to look at her family which, at this point, was beyond any petty utterances. They managed an exchange of glances and a shared tenseness that had been mirrored nowhere in the world. And when they looked back, Alice was gone.

……………………………………………………………………………………

It was just as she remembered it. The little clock on the mantelpiece was backwards, and its little face grinned at her, apparently recognizing her on sight. Alice smiled back. She was home. But this home was a fixer-upper.

"Oh dear," she began in something like vexation, "I do suppose I have changed, little clock. I would think that this place should change with me. Does that logic suit you, little clock?" She asked, lifting a finger to the clock's backwards face. It simply smiled, and Alice smiled back. Things had changed, for once the girl would have thought such a thing somewhat curious, even after her many adventures. Now, it was simply pleasing to the eye, perfectly normal. "Dinah says that you mean yes. Though it would be entirely more pleasing should you speak to me."

Alice, once languid and basking upon her return to this place, suddenly gained a full fury in her eyes. "Why don't you talk, you irritating thing?" She hissed suddenly. "You spoke to me in my dreams, you insolent thing. But you, you're as evil as the rest of the world! How dare you smile at me so!" At this point she was shrieking, and the clock was doing anything but smiling with the face of an old man. He looked positively terrified as Alice threw him to the carpet and slammed the sword into him with all the force of a grown man. Black blood, possibly oil, spouted from the "neck" of the screaming clock and Alice hissed at its unpleasant sound, jamming her heel into its face. That would teach it to look at her so strangely. After the clock was silenced, Alice felt a thrill rush up and down her spine and she began to laugh, a sound that was all at once silken, eerie, and harsh. Alice realized something she had not ever even been aware of in the slightest before.

Killing was fun.


	2. Seeing

A/N: Ok guys, after I've made several edits to the format of chapter one. Anyway, I don't think I gave quite enough credit to Shaun in the previous chapter. Well, I would like you all to know that this story would have been impossible, or perhaps not nearly as substantial, had it not been for his assistance in this story's creation. In any case, I would like you all to know that this chapter is something of a recap or fill-in on some points on Alice's past that were neglected in the previous chapter.

Disclaimer: Same as the last chapter.

To Reviewers!

Whispy: Thank you luff, for reviewing even after I cut you to pieces with a chainsaw… well… you hugged it… that's your fault, right? Well anyway, thank you for that… squishy bit of input... Yeah. It is much appreciated. Don't you have ANY criticism? feels loved.

Ah, and Jiej! (who is the second reviewer… I just call her Jiejie…) Thank you! No criticisms? Jeesh, you people and your…. Niceness. Ah well, thanks. I shouldn't complain!

Bri…I mean… Sam8theStrawberry- Hi! I luff you too! Thank you for the utterly nice review!

Swordsrock! Yay! you reviewed! Spiffifull! Well, no, I didn't mean fell fury. But that doesn't mean I won't still kill you....

Chapter 2, Seeing

Ah, the killing had been indeed exhilarating; however the girl's energy had been spent. Alice found herself contented to see that the fire that had always been present within this room was ablaze even in the heat of summer. She set herself down in a heavily cushioned armchair and stared dreamily into the flickering flames in the fireplace, listened to the soothing crackle that seemed to say so much more to her then did the voices of putrid humanity. The clock's death had eased her immediate upheaval of irrational anger, and the said clock lay at her feet, leaking oil all over the fine white rug. The events of this day had been trying for Alice, if not physically, then mentally. Never had she managed to comprehend so much all at once.

Now was the time to get lost. Though there was no Black Kitty to assist her in this constant feat, she had nothing to do but try and lose herself. The evil in the world twisted her head to the point of no return, and bliss could only be achieved when the girl escaped into the deepest chambers of her mind. There, things were still okay. They believed her there…. Despite the commotion the screaming clock had caused among the strange residents of the Looking-Glass House, Alice went utterly catatonic for the moment, and was gone, faded beyond anyone's reach in memories. She was gone.

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Alice looked back at her sister with a soft smile as she was sent for tea. Though tea had hardly any appeal after her romp with the Hatter and the Hare, she knew that her sister would like her to go. And how could she disobey, having been sent off with such a gentle kiss? Her sister seemed to be thinking, as Alice often did.

"I do wonder," she said aloud, "if that wasn't a dream at all! It was perhaps too real for that. Yes, that's certainly it. Wonderland is real." Alice stated firmly. "Anita even seems to be lost in it. Really, she does. She sees the white rabbit quite as well as I had, but I do hope that she doesn't get lost as quickly as I did." Alice sighed softly, gazing down at Dinah who was following at the young girl's heels dutifully, toying at the hem of sky-blue skirts, as she would not venture near the clamor of the barnyard. This was how days should always be… always—

"Alice, do stop talking such nonsense, child!" Muttered her nurse impatiently. Suddenly, it was spring…. Summer had long faded away, and Anita had engrossed herself so deeply in her studies that she was hard to reach. Not even her sister listened to her stories of her adventures in Wonderland anymore. Now the nurses had to put up with Alice's storytelling, as her parents hardly had the time to spend on her anymore. The nurses were growing tired of her unending, nonsensical stories. "This… Looking-Glass House does not exist. Stop insisting that it does or I shall have to box you in the ears."

Alice grew quite serious, tugging on the hem of the older woman's skirts, "But these places, they are real! Anita even says so. She'll tell her children and even their children about where I went in Wonderland! And Kitty can tell you about the Looking-Glass House, honest she can!" Alice was beyond protocol at this point. She disliked people taking her words so without care and it was beginning to become more then she could stand. It had been two years now since she'd been to Wonderland, and Alice was willing to tell anybody who would listen about her recent adventures through the looking-glass in the front room. There inlayed the problem. None were willing to listen to what they considered "prattle" from a growing girl, not even Anita, who now rarely patronized her childish attributes. The young woman was changing as well as Alice, growing more austere and less tolerable of Alice's "growing imagination" or anybody else, for that matter. Because nobody would stand to take note of Alice or her habits, it was understandable that they would not see how she subsided into herself more and more often……………..

Softer memories had faded altogether. Years later, now, Alice was ten. "Alice," Anita attempted to sooth the nervous girl before her, "I have some bad news, dear." Anita had remained so distant that her closeness with Alice had mostly dwindled, but the girls' parents had decided to let Anita deal with Alice's discrepancies. Now all Anita wanted was to get this little conversation over with. "We found Dinah, Alice. She wasn't lost….. She died a very peaceful death in the field. She was very old, you know." Alice got very quiet, and for a moment Anita was about to turn around and leave, wondering if Alice was going to go glassy-eyed and thoughtless as she had been doing on and off as of late. It was a very unsettling thing to do and recent company had been shaken by it.

"No, I don't know." Alice stamped a foot vehemently, refusing to believe the truth in her sister's words. Lately, Alice and that cat had grown very close. Anita was no longer relieved. Her sister's voice unnerved her entirely and she wavered a moment… then her sister turned on her heel and darted from the room at breakneck speed. The sound of breaking glass could be heard somewhere else in the house as well as the sharp reprimand of the nurses. There were so few of them now, Alice realized vaguely as she tore through the house, ripping down family portraits and the like. This resulted in the boxing of her ears and Alice was sent to her room….. And that room swirled into nothingness…

Then there was a knife in Alice's hand, sinking blissfully into ivory skin. Crimson liquid bubbled around the blade, pooled against white. Oh how sweet was the pain, ingrained into her, so strong as to blot out the frustration of misunderstanding that everyone seemed to have of her and her thoughts. Alice had subsided, and only Black Kitty could help her now… was the only one who just didn't care anymore. Alice was too old for a nurse now, 12 years old, and most of them had left, much to the ignorant curiosity of Alice….. The pain melted away as a butterfly fluttered down from some unknown place and soaked the red from her arms with its pretty wings and the world was so at peace. Nobody disturbed her. And Dinah was there, looking at Alice with a wide, sharp-fanged grin that only Alice could deem normal at this point. "Dinah" did not speak, but her tail flickered back and forth. Everything about the cat was the same as it had been when Alice was able to touch her but for that unseemly grin.

"You know Alice; you know what you have to do... Go back."

"They say that I can't, Dinah. They even call you dead! How do they speak such nonsense so shamelessly, Dinah?"

"They tell you I am dead, and I am clearly not, Alice. They are wrong about Wonderland as well. Your friends miss you very much there, dear. Go back to them."

"How?" She asked desperately, reaching for the cat with everything she had. But Dinah was gone, and the knife returned.

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Alice's eyes grew hard once more as awareness plagued her. She was awake. Where was Dinah? Gone again, she supposed. Her limp, pale body stiffened again and Alice got to her feet and tossed her head in a manner that had stayed with her since she had been very young. That was about the only thing that hadn't changed as far as Alice's little habits. She had no time to waste in becoming the Red Queen again. From here, Alice figured she could do anything she wished. She twirled around dreamily, enjoying the spread of her black dress beneath her and the shadows cast upon it by the small fire writhing in the fireplace. The strange dance ended and Alice hardly took a moment to regain balance.

As Alice made her way to the front door, a gravely voice called tauntingly to her from the fireplace wall. "Killed a helpless clock, little girl. How without sense you must be!"

Alice's head whipped around with a near audible "snap", attempting to see what had produced the unpleasant comment. One of the many living portraits on the walls of the Looking-Glass House stared down at her, smirking smugly. She gazed back at it venomously, glassy blue eyes smooth, dreamy, and yet sharp and piercing. Her coal-black dress fluttered with the sharp movement of her whole body as she turned to face the offending painting. After that, Alice remained perfectly still, shadows cast by dancing flames depicting something entirely eerie, many of her features tossed into obscurity so that it was very difficult to read her expression. The painting seemed undaunted.

"He mocked me with his smile, Painting. I wonder what you would do, should you be mocked. I do suppose that it would be quite senseless not to put one in his place. Don't you feel very much the same?" Several other portraits had cast their eyes in the direction of the portrait of the balding man who had first addressed Alice to see just what he would do next.

"I certainly wouldn't do that! It was quite cruel, young lady. I shouldn't like to see at thing like that ever again. Why, what with the nonsense in that death, I should think you a lunatic not fit for a home like this!" Those words had sealed the portrait's fate.

Alice was suddenly and entirely calm, letting her head fall to the side in a mock-inquisitive manner. "I'm not a lunatic. And this place was made quite for me and me alone. Shall I rid the world of those that do not please me? Yes, yes, I think that is what I will do." Once, Alice had been very polite, very careful to avoid argument or senseless talk. This portrait, for a change, was something more sensible then much of what she had encountered in the past, but too much so to please her. The said portrait began to look a might nervous at the prospect her last words had presented. The other portraits and paintings grinned or frowned, depending on how they had perceived what Alice had said.

"Now don't look at me like that, you silly thing." It complied instantly, attempting to find another way to look at her. It was much too late, though, to attempt to correct himself and Alice was already standing on the armchair beneath him. Standing on the tips of her toes and keeping balance beautifully, she was about to rip the painting from the wall…. But much to the relief of the balding man in the picture, she hopped from the cushion and instead glared up at the painting with what was apparently growing fury.

"If I'm to learn anything about controlling this place… I ought to practice now, oughtn't I?" she asked herself with a wide, insane grin. "Do let's pretend that the nail behind you is gone, you ugly thing!" Alice spat at the portrait. Ah, wasn't that how it all started? With the words, "Let's pretend" she had first made it through the looking glass. She was quite sure that the results with this painting would be equally satisfying. And so they were. The painting slid from the wall sharply, crashing against the floor with an audible and sickening "crack" akin to that of a smashing skull. Alice's grin widened once more as she plucked the poor, fearful painting from its place on the floor. With a swift, lithe movement, the portrait was in the fire, screaming fitfully.

This taken care of, Alice strode confidently out the door of the Looking-Glass House. She was quick to stop short, stamping a foot and glaring out at the fields… ah… she remembered what had to be done. Alice couldn't get anywhere unless she remembered precisely what had to be done to leave the house. Alice WANTED to get back into the garden of flowers, tell the flowers what she had learned. And they would listen, or she would do more them simply "pick" them. Not far off the on the green horizon, a more dense bit of foliage appeared to her. Lovely. There it was. She twirled gracefully on her heel and strode in the opposite direction, eyes staring dreamily up at the sky.

"It should be a day of clouds, Dinah, should it not?" There was a pause.

"Good then, you agree, I'd have to stab the sky with Father's sword should my words prove quite wrong." Laughing for no apparent reason, Alice watched the clouds a moment more… until, of course, she came upon the flowers, all so very quiet for the time being.

"Speak! Or I shall call Dinah!" She ordered with a flourish of her hand. The rose that had been there previously was no longer there to greet her with its severities. For the rose's sake, this was likely a good thing. It was not; however, a very pleasant thing for the rose bush that had been left in its stead.

"Who is Dinah?"

"Yes, yes who is she?"

"Answer us, little girl!"

"You shouldn't tell us the name of someone and not tell us quite well who they are!" The daisies were saying too many things at once, much more then 'poor Alice' could exactly comprehend right away. The look of frustration crossing her features was one to be feared.

"You should quite know who Dinah is, you disrespectful, talkative things!" She glared at the daisies, and much to the dismay of the other flowers, they began to wail in pain under that pair of crazed eyes. Writhing and twisting and howling beneath a grin and a glare, the daisies were soon contorted into scorched, dark things. The eyes they once had were mere slits at the centers of their faces, and grins not unlike that of the Cheshire Cat and what Alice envisioned to be Dinah spread across their little, adorable faces. Their petals, once bright yellow, were quite a deep, poisoned purple, almost dead looking. Their stems had taken on a sickening black hue that the fourteen-year-old particularly enjoyed.

Alice wasn't too much larger then most of the other flowers, but it appeared the rest of the them would be careful of what they said, and they had to say something for fear that any attempt at silence would be destroyed with another of those maniacal stares. The roses were unfortunately still rather severe.

"Why, you didn't have to do that!!!" A rose stated bluntly.

"Not at all! Dear, I believe we were once told of you... but you're petals look quite dead. We don't want you here. " Cried the high-pitched voice of another as it swayed to and fro on its thorny branch dramatically.

Once Alice might have even avoided upsetting the queer little things altogether. Here she simply smiled and hacked the pair of complaining roses from the hedge with the sword she still carried. Much to her delight, blood flowed steadily from the broken stems and appeared to pain the other roses to the point of tears. The daisies, once amiable and talkative, were at this point simply grinning maliciously. The pansies hid their children's eyes from the 'carnage' before them. Alice only smirked softly, senselessly as a trespassing breeze plucked at her thick, silken blonde hair. The sky was suddenly quite dark but Alice enjoyed this too much to be concerned about its cause as she spread her arms to allow the wind full passage about her. It picked up her dress and petticoats and brought them against her legs, apron flapping aimlessly. Her eyes closed to the comfort in the chill air. Something did, however, draw her from this peaceful pose. The flowers were whimpering. Alice did not bother to destroy them for she knew, in time, the deranged little daisies most certainly would. Still, as the source of their dismay did not seem to be her, she finally cast her frozen gaze in the thing's direction. This happened to be the thing producing such darkness.

Alice smiled with something between glee and insanity. A massive, vicious looking crow soared overhead. Alice knew precisely where it was going. It was off to break of the Tweedle's fight. 7 years before, Alice had run in terror at the sight of the big, wicked looking thing. Now Alice simply noted that she could not recall an occurrence in which she had seen something so very black, and continued to ponder aloud.

"I do think I shall have that crow. I have not seen a thing so well shining. Won't they all think me so very brave back home should I tame that big black crow?" Alice smiled mirthlessly at that very thought. Of course, she had her two pet Kitties, but she couldn't ride such creatures. As deeply as Alice's mind had delved into itself, it wasn't so far out of the way for her to think of a crow the size of an elephant to be the perfect steed. And so she laughed again with that abnormally chilling, halfhearted laugh and took off down the path, kicking a pebble now and then with a child-like bliss. The wind toyed with her hair and her dress and the bow that held her apron in check and she twirled lazily, stumbling and staring senselessly at the sky. Beneath that cold, liquid gaze rested a mind more twisted then what it even perceived the world. Alice was simply content to know that she would soon ride astride a big black birdie and that Dinah paced alongside her and still only she could see.

"I must be a special, intelligent girl," Alice mused, eyes questing ahead once more, chancing upon the far off black bird. This was true seeing. Alice could truly sight hope a darker world on the horizon. It was no longer a matter of belief. What came next was being. And for this she had to be an intelligent, special little girl.

"I'm glad you think so, too, Dinah," Alice smiled with something akin to happiness, clasping her hands behind her back. She began to skip a strange, jerky skipped that was quite as deranged as Alice herself. Soon she could fly. She would have wings. Alice would be able to make scream any being below her first because of her adorable black birdie and later because of her reputation as a strong and gallant woman not to be trifled with. And then she could get her fill of deaths. Wouldn't that be pleasant? Oh it most certainly would. She could hear the tortured screams of someone unfortunate enough to cross her, could see a blood-bathed Wonderland at her feet, could smell the stink of death stinging the inside of her nostrils kindly, and she could taste the metallic tang of rot on her tongue. Alice could even feel her fingers wrap around the throat of an unsuspecting passerby. could She giggled coldly. Wings would indeed be a blessing.

These thoughts only heated the odd jerk to her skip. Alice, whom for so long had been a captive to a society that supposed itself to be "normal", would be free. More importantly, Alice would be unleashed.


	3. Being

Disclaimer? Again, I don't own the original Alice, nor to I own many of the things mentioned in the worlds. Lewis Carroll rocks my socks that way, if you understand what I mean. HOWEVER, I DO own what Alice has become as well as the storyline. The crow, which is Lewis' originally, will gain more personality here, and that personality belongs to me. Anyway, ONWARD.

To my faithful and much loved reviewers: Suggestions and criticism are appreciated, though I do love all the compliments I'm getting. And Kel, yeah, I know I made that mistake. For all who caught this misstep, Alice is 14, and I'm too lazy to go back and change it. Swordsrock, I think I might put you in the story just to kill you off… for fun…

Sorry for the hold up, I have to study for high school entrance exams

Chapter 3, Being

Alice leapt from one square to the next with all the grace of a small, green, lithe serpent. Well, snakes didn't precisely jump, but they were certainly graceful, and certainly lithe. She barely teetered a bit after having made that impossible leap over the brook, onyx hued dress billowing up about her like a sea of black fabric. Her cold eyes flickered about. What would this square be like? The entirety of the Looking-Glass World seemed to be one big chess board, and each square was rather large enough to harbor anything from forests to castles. She was certain that this forest would lead to the Tweedle home, for the far off scream of the crow reached her ears. Once she had that crow, she could simply fly to the eighth square, the place where one was crowned queen.

Alice strolled aimlessly along the woodland path. This forest was unsettlingly dark. She loved it, though it could have certainly used some work. Her steely eyes chanced upon this tree or that, and without even a word, the said tree became a twisted, gnarled image of its former self. Very soon, the forest was seething with dementia. Song-birds screamed something unearthly and twisted. Small mammals, once cute and cuddly, were blood sodden, half rotting zombies that roamed their contorted habitat with indifference to their pains. The undergrowth writhed and wriggled with black snakes. The place had become a death trap to all that Alice did not particularly favor. Years before, the girl had not realized the length of the power of her imagination, but now that Dinah had told her, she knew precisely what to do, how to do it. While her family wasn't watching, Alice had thought and seen a number of terrible people, places, and things.

Now she could execute these fantasies upon this world, and even the next. Alice giggled maniacally and moved on. Her work in these woods was done, and the girl did not even cast a second glance in the direction of the forsaken place, though the "songbirds" cried after her in voices rent from all sanity. She only laughed a high-pitched, squealing laugh in reply.

The evening was upon Alice and "Dinah" far more quickly then she could have hoped. The Looking-Glass world was really a splendid place during the night, lit up as though from the inside. Alice had hardly the time or patience to notice. "Dinah, I'm sure the crow went in this way. Why is it that I do not hear him?" The girl's voice was growing shrill and angry and a rosy coloration was rising to her impossibly pale cheeks.

It had been far too long since she had seen or heard anything from the massive black bird and at this point, any living, moving thing that decided it would be a good idea to get in her way was either hacked to pieces by her sword or distorted by her deranged visions and fantasies. Alice had been in such a blind rage that she did not even notice the signs pointing to the home of the Tweedle brothers.

Alice only realized what she might have stumbled upon when she heard two voices break through the dense foliage. They were arguing…. Over what? It seemed as though a lost lollipop was the overall subject. Alice glanced over in the direction where she had heard Dinah's claws scrabble, eyes falling on the cat that only she could see lounging on a nearby log.

"Dinah, they do not even acknowledge that I am here! How very rude! What do you think the Kitties would say back home?" She swung to face the cat with sinuous grace akin only to the movement of a serpent, halting only when her sword planted itself in the forest undergrowth to stay the swing of her body.

The cat merely grinned in reply and licked a paw. It seemed for a moment as though that was all "Dinah" would do, but Alice knew better. "Well, my dear. You know what you must do. They disrespect you. Make them respect you." The feline's tail twitched from one side to the next, feral grin spread more widely across her face. That voice of hers wasn't distinctly feminine, but as Alice had learned not to take things for face value, she didn't find Dinah's voice at all unsettling. She simply nodded agreement with the cat's words.

"Yes, I dare say they must pay for this mistake. Oh do look at them Dinah! They are quite greedy, fighting over sweets like that. I shall have to punish them for this as well, I suppose." Though her words could have been said in a tone of regret, they were distant, made eerie by the fact that a malicious grin pulled at Alice's lips. The grin was twin of Dinah's own, distorting the pretty face of an "innocent young lady" into that of an insane murderer.

Alice stepped through the thick brush surrounding where the Tweedle's were arguing beneath the rapidly darkening sky. The moon and stars were vacant from it. Alice preferred clouds in the sky, and so there they were. The brothers turned to face her the instant she came upon them more visibly, each standing perfectly straight, parallel to the other, glaring at her as if she had made some mistake by interrupting their fight. That glare was their mistake.

"You mentioned," Alice began in tones so measured as to shock anybody who had seen her previous mood, "a lost lollipop?" Alice had long since passed the stage where she would do her best to inspect the Tweedle's attire and the strange way they stood. They managed to look at her with a sudden interest, exchanging glances and nodding at Alice, encouraging her to continue. She simply stood before them in a stately manner. "Well," she continued in light, composed tones, "I just happened to have something so sweet that you'll never fight over candy ever again. How would the two of you like that?"

Well, they had certainly discovered a new respect for the girl. The one who had the name "Tweedledum" embroidered on his collar spoke first with new enthusiasm.

"That kind of thing doesn't exist, nohow! We have to fight for our sweets. How did you get yours?" The plump little man took a step towards Alice and looked up into her face quite seriously. Once she might have laughed at the grave expression, now only a thin smile graced her red lips. None but the cat in the trees behind her saw her fingers tense about the hilt of the sword witch was held ready behind her back.

"Why," Alice began,"In the graveyard, of course." Her words were flighty, tantalizing, even dangerous.

"Contrariwise!" objected Tweedledee, becoming animated once more, "The grave people living there would not give away sweets! They're much too serious." He nodded… gravely, to be sure.

Alice's quiet smile flourished into a malicious grin. "Well then you haven't been to the graveyard I have. Would you like to have the sweets, my dear little Tweedles?"

The brothers exchanged excited glances and embraced each other as Alice had witnessed them do time and again on her first visit to this place. This would be the last time they did. "Of course we would! Anything for the lollipops anyhow!" Tweedledum declared heartily for the both of them. Tweedledee nodded fervent agreement.

Alice looked utterly and manically pleased. "I am quite happy that you both agree on the matter. Now only if the two of you would come a little closer you'll get your promised rewards."

The two fat little men leapt forward; obviously eager for whatever treats Alice might be willing to dole out to them. Neither expected a flash of silver that darted from behind Alice's back, cleanly hacking of Tweedledum's round head and sending it rolling through the undergrowth. Tweedledee looked confused, horrified, and furious all at once, screaming "Contrariwise!" again and again, as his stubby legs carried him about in frantic circles until Alice brought her bloodied sword into his belly with a sickening squelch and the stench of torn bowels. Alice smiled softly down at the man writhing in pain for only a moment. The movement stopped and the smile became a smirk.

"Dinah, do you suppose they'll like their sweets?" Alice whirled with the flutter of her skirts to face the cat. Surrounding the feline were all things wonderful. Dead flowers, bones, rotting carrion. She smiled a distant, unnerving smile. Were these the things she could have if she killed enough?

"Of course they will, Alice. You heard the way they screamed." The cat leapt from the log that had served as a seat, grinning up at Alice in a way that could only warrant a returning grin. Suddenly, however, the cat was consumed in darkness that was sweeping down upon them far too swiftly to be natural. Well, the Tweedles weren't fighting anymore, but what did that matter to a scavenger like the crow? He was hungry and now that the brothers were dead, he could feast without worry of them running away again.

"Crow!" Alice's head tilted back as she shrieked the creature's name, "Come down from there my dear, I have prepared for you a meal!" The speed with which the darkness had impended upon the world increased considerably and Alice laughed with demented satisfaction.

She waited patiently while the crow feasted, undaunted by his size unlike most girls her age would have been. The beast was larger then an elephant, to be sure, by at least a foot and a half. Indeed, the girl was enthralled by the beauty of the gleaming black bird, with feathers akin to wet ink and a beak that looked quite like sanded ebony. Said beak dipped into the corpse of one of the brothers and Alice giggled an incomprehensible giggle as "Dinah" assured her that she had done quite well. Alice was far too elated with her prize, far too gone from herself, to note that she had not had anything like an "episode" since before she killed the portrait. But then, this made sense. Alice was able to bring about all the things she would have otherwise imagined, and so she was content as trees with deadly, groping branches appeared all about her and the crow. Still, none dared scathe either of them, lest they feel the wrath of their God, their creator.

Finally, the crow had picked the two fat bodies clean, and they were nothing more then revolting, viscera speckled skeletons with bits of rotting flesh hanging limply from them. "So, my dear, shall we fly? Dinah says it is preferable that we fly, and I most agree." The crow seemed to understand, blinking his cold black eyes at her and shuffling his wings with satisfaction of a full belly. His whole body bobbed up and down in something of a nod.

"Yesssh," He trilled in the way that only a crow could, in a voice that nearly shook the forest itself.

"Good then, my dear. There shall certainly be more meals for you in the future. Don't eat the kitties, though, or I shall have to cut your head off." Alice was far beyond finding it strange that an animal could speak. Indeed, she managed to pass right over the fact as most of the residents of her "nonsense" worlds would have.

The crow, unlike Alice, was as sane as one in the Looking-Glass world could be, and understood deals. Not only this, he feared the girl, rightly so. Could Alice see that? Somewhere within she must have known that she inspired fear. This was the fuel on which the girl ran. The massive bird fidgeted in the presence of a small girl with a sword likely too heavy for her to wield to its full potential.

"Where shaaall we goooo?" The great scavenger cawed, shifting his weight from one sharply adorned foot to the other cautiously. For now, the creature would have to play it safe and resist the natural instinct to taunt and tease.

"Why, the eighth square, my silly Crow!" Alice stumbled forward and twirled with a serpentine grace to the side of her new steed. A wing spread downward to provide the girl with a stairway to the crow's back. "What pretty feathers you wear, my dear…" Alice trailed off as she settled herself in the hollow between the bird's wings… Alice's wings. "Away we go!" She ordered sharply, grinning down at Dinah, who watched them with a satisfaction that was certainly not for Alice's sake as Crow jolted from the clearing now choked with Alice's fantasies.

Flying was like nothing Alice had experienced before and the laugh that tore past her small, red lips was high-pitched and elated with lack of sanity. Below Alice was somewhat infuriated to see that there was so much more work on the land to be done, enough so that benevolently green fields of soft grass were suddenly strangled with venomous bunny-rabbits and stinging sparrows. "I like Crow. Don't you?" Alice asked her steed.

He glanced up at Alice and offered a conversational nod. "Indeeeeeed I doooo," He beat his wings that remained bright with luster though the sun did not pierce the clouds, and continued that practiced crow's glide. "Yesssssh, I like Crow verrry much."

Hmm, Crow would be a nice companion. Dinah seemed to think so…… No time to think of that now, not really. Her eyes chanced upon what was invariably the eighth square. Crow saw it too, and banked his wings in a manner that would bring his claws to meet the soft earth and rip it away from itself.. Alice giggled once more, an unsettling, violent sound. Something weighed heavily down upon her head, comfortable sitting atop those pale silken tresses. A crown, she knew. Already, she was queen, although THIS time, things would be different. Her dress remained the same funeral grown, as she preferred it to the queen's garb. A black scepter rested in her smooth white palm and the crown upon her was of the purest onyx in the land. This was a start. Now, Alice was being. She had power that was rising, writhing within her, fighting for release.

"Thank you, Crow. Stay with me?" Alice slid down an outstretched wing and onto the grass that shied from her touch as her feet met it. The crow, of course, knew better then to defy Alice and wobbled up and down. She let a small hand pat his beak with impossibly boldness. After that, the eighth square, indeed, the whole chess board, would never quite be the same again. Blood spouted from the earth as water would from a geyser where she willed it. Ah, the metallic tang of blood was so nice. Why hadn't she realized this before?


	4. Her Dark Majesty, His Wonderland

Disclaimer: You know the drill. Oh, but Darren is mine.

Advertisements: READ RUNESPOOR EGGS, by Kelenariel. I co-wrote that, basically, and I'm quite happy with the outcome of it. Kel asked me to tell my readers about it. You might like it, it's a Harry Potter fiction that has a so far humorous tone that is going to get darker.

To my reviewers!

Supahfan and Muffins… I Love you both. Finally, foreign reviews, not from people who I more respectively know! hugs In any case, yes, McGee's Alice is, as I hear, a good game, and this was inspired a touch by it. Supah, thank you. This review was much appreciated, as I do wish to go professional. Indeed, I AM going professional in a year or so. . Please, feel free to buy a copy of my book…. Or many copies of my book! Fweee! Anywho, on with the chapter.

Chapter 4, Her Dark Majesty, His Wonderland

"So, Crow, where shall I, Alice, begin?" Alice wondered aloud in a manner that suggested that she was talking to herself and didn't quite expect an answer. Her eyes cast out their far-away gaze to some unknown place, as if attempting to reel something in with it. Still, Crow was not going to deny the delicate looking girl her answer.

"Well…. Could beeeeegeen at thee cassstle." He bobbed up and down amiably. Beneath that black exterior, the crow quite liked Alice's way of thinking, being a scavenger himself that enjoyed preying upon the weak often enough. Alice patted his beak once more with one of those misleadingly delicate, pale hands and continued on her way over the soft grass, feet turning the earth brittle, even infertile in some parts, in others changing once beautifully pigmented green grass into a ripe black. The woodland flanking her was a playground of death to those that graced it. Once thriving creatures were zombie-like and stinking of long rotted carrion.

"Where is this castle?" Alice paused, tapping her lower lip with a slender index finger, and she continued, "Ahh, yes, I remember. Just over the hill, Crow. Shall we leave?" Much to Crow's immediate confusion, Alice cast her icy gaze over her shoulder and towards some unknown source.

"Dinah, of COURSE you may come. I would order it if I could only do so, my dear, and you know it!" When the young woman turned her attention back to Crow, his wing was already extended for her passage onto his back, and he was pretending to take no particular interest in the recent goings on. As he was folding his wing, he was startled into an awkward hop by the girl's shriek.

"Let Dinah onto your back, you pathetic thing, before I cut your head off as well! You may not like cats, but Dinah likes you, so you had better just put that wing back down, Crow!" He complied with no complaint, subconsciously pulling his head close to his shoulders as it could be. There was no need to lose so fine a head, and so he waited until Alice seemed satisfied that "Dinah" was with them. Why had he been so startled at her outburst of insanity? Hadn't he known all along that Alice was an outright nutter? Yes. So it made sense to suppose that she was a crazy person in more aspects then one. Settling on this theory, the crow leapt from the earth at more then sufficient speed

……………………………………………………………………………………..

Quiet had long since descended upon the castle. Alice's castle. Crow was hopping about merrily, taking in his fill of the carcasses strewn about the castle. Perhaps all that was left was a single Smiget or Cloot. Alice had no idea what either of these creatures were, and so she contented herself with drowsing beneath the clouds in her field of corpses. With her crown hanging a touch over her forehead, a tiny, perfect smile played upon Alice's full lips. It was a smile of complete success. She had indeed been successful, rampaging through the castle and ripping still-beating hearts out of chests. She had even eaten a talking leg of mutton. Now it was time to relax, reflect on the perfection of the day.

"What do you say about all this, Dinah? Have I done well?"

"Of course," Dinah sat beside Alice beneath the clouds. "Her" paw batted at Alice's tumbling blonde tresses, and to Alice this was an honor more then anything else.

"Now you know what more you must do."

Just outside the eighth square, many a strange creature gathered, looking quite horrified at the scene before them. There was no more Red Queen, no more White Queen. Alice, the Black Queen, was all that was left to rule them, and by strict protocol, each bowed in her favor. Many ran as fast as they could so as to stay in one place to show their willingness to submit to her reign. Alice's smile widened at the show, eyes opening. So where was Crow? Ah, enjoying the meal she'd made for him. Well that was just grand, but it was time to go back home. She had other business to attend to… and now that the young woman had nearly an army of strange creatures on her side….. Alice smiled maniacally. Thunder roared overhead and her smile broadened into a grin as her fingers brushed over the back of a cat none but she could see.

"Well now, my dears, you will all come with me, or I will feed you to Crow," Alice stood, smoothing her skirts. Her words had been said without pause or even a crazy malevolence. At this, several of the strange creatures surrounding the eighth square turned and ran. In wasn't something to their advantage. Crow followed them, having heard Alice's words. Their screams resounded freakishly throughout surrounding woodland and the like. Alice inhaled deeply, as though refreshed, as Crow came swooping over the horizon, cawing down at the congregation, accenting Alice's proclamation almost eagerly.

Meanwhile, Alice was beginning her stroll to the borders, prepared to pick her slaves and just what purposes they would serve. After that… well… it would be time to go to Wonderland.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

It was time to go to Wonderland. Well, after school, of course…

Darren sighed and let his head fall down onto his desk with a sickening thud. Why the hell was history class always so damned long? His limp, shaggy black hair brushed the surface of beat-up wooden desk around him and he ignored the teacher when she prompted him to sit up. Then the bell rang. Shoving away from the desk with a satisfied grunt, he stood, stuffed his books in his bag, and awaited more official dismissal. Finally. Time to go. Darren managed to get out the door before the teacher even had the opportunity to scold him on his lazy behavior in class. He wouldn't have listened anyway, so did it even matter? Darren sure didn't think so. Wonderland wanted him. He wanted Wonderland. The sixteen year old felt as though nothing else in the world mattered much, save for his close circle of friends.

The tall, handsome teenager observed Los Angeles, California, as though it had no surprises to offer. Shouldering his backpack up with a tired sigh, he cast his hair-obscured hazel gaze down at his beat-up, high-top red converse and their perpetual bipedal motion…. Left, right, left, right, over and over again. The sky above him and the rest of Los Angeles was a bleak grey, reflecting the young man's mood with uncanny accuracy. Winter was always like this, really. Smog clouded the skyline as always, in every season, during every time of day. Whether or not one could see it, the smog was omnipresent, like the dark side of the moon. One would always know it was there.

Wonderland was like that for Darren. He couldn't always see it, but the reality, or lack, thereof, that was Wonderland always loomed overhead. In 2005, where people judged everything they saw, there was no way Darren would tell the world about his discovery. They'd send him to the funny farm, he knew. Still, the boy knew he would have to tell his friends sooner or later. They would sense that something was different.

Darren shoved past a tense business woman, a couple of balding fat men who were in his way, a strange old woman with blue hair and almost didn't hear their protests. Los Angeles was full of strange crowds, and Darren himself was merely another stranger in the endless flow of time here, just another kid in black jeans and a black t-shirt. He was nothing special, not here, where he was no more then a passing ripple on the surface of time; there one moment, gone the next.

Wonderland was different. Time didn't matter there. Darren mattered, and everything and everyone seemed to know everybody else, which was strange, considering just how many people lived there. Then again, nobody really died of age, no matter how old they seemed to be. It seemed they had all the Time in the world to meet everybody else. So why was Darren still here on earth? He had close friends. His parents were drunkards. They weren't even thought of when he considered who was important. Soon, though, everything would change. His friends would like Wonderland too. Maybe they'd want to stay. Darren ran his fingers tiredly though his limp black hair, kicking dismally at a tin can in his path. He was stuck between finding his closest companion, Mason, and going to Wonderland. The latter won out.

Darren managed to get home after fifteen minutes of restrained walking. Still, he made no effort to quiet his entry as he shoved opened his front door. His mother was home, at least, and she was, not surprisingly, quite drunk. She was sprawled awkwardly on the couch, smiling vaguely up at a son who had virtually raised himself. He blinked down at her lazily, not even bothering to glare at her pathetic state. It was a wonder they even lived in a dump like this, what with his family so dysfunctional. Sliding his backpack from his shoulders and onto the squalid wooden floor, he turned to face the fireplace, ignoring his mother as she wagged a sloshing beer bottle in his direction.

She was so drunk….Darren had no doubt that his mother would never comprehend his leaving into Wonderland through the fireplace, would probably believe him if he told her where he was going; hell, she'd believe him if he told her a giant purple bunny rabbit named Pubic-Hare was going door to door selling guillotines made out of frozen whisky.

Darren smiled wryly at the thought and stepped into the cold, unlit fireplace, disappearing in its red brick wall with ease as if the wall had been gauze. He was gone. Gone into Wonderland.

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"Lucy, I really don't see why you have to argue with Dinah all the time," Alice snapped, quite suddenly, at thin air. She glanced at the place where she saw Dinah, blinked apologetically, and smoothed her skirts. Alice was back in the Looking Glass House, arguing with an old voice that had suddenly surfaced once more. About her were creatures that looked quite reasonably puzzled at Alice's out burst.

"Alice, keep Lucy quiet or I'll do it myself," Dinah spat sternly. A look of fear leapt into the young girl's glassy blue eyes. It was a very real, very sane fear that germinated from three very real scars that traced the length of her back… Dinah seemed to know that Lucy was a part of Alice, and if it meant slicing Alice to pieces to get rid of Lucy……..

"Alright, Dinah, dear, it shall be done," Alice managed hastily.

"No it won't. I don't feel like being shut up. You two are being mean!" The moth, Lucy, whined insistently. Alice swatted at where she was sure the moth was and she eluded the girl's small, pale hand. At this point, she was so engrossed in this little argument that she did not notice when a few of her new soldier slaves began to creep away. Fortunately or unfortunately, Crow was on his watch.

"Lucy, do you want Dinah to hurt you?"

"No. You shouldn't be hurting these poor, defenseless creatures either!" The moth alighted on the corner of the mantelpiece and gestured widely with one tiny hand at the confused onlookers.

"I believe she's talking to nobody…" the astonished Red King to the White King at his left.

"Oh, do you think so? She must have very good eyes. I couldn't see Nobody, much less hear him!"

"No, she's talking to Lucy!" argued an uprooted daisy, gesturing wildly with a leaf.

"Who's Lucy?" inquired a portrait with genuine curiosity.

"Nobody," replied the daisy heatedly, flailing about with dramatic effort, and, being quite unanchored, fell over.

Meanwhile, Alice was carrying on her conversation with "Nobody," quite verbosely.

"Why oughtn't I, Lucy, why oughtn't I?" Alice demanded venomously.

"They can't defend themselves!"

"They are weak."

"So make them strong!"

Dinah was growing impatient, and Alice saw this. She took a few very tentative steps backward as the cat began advancing slowly upon her.

"Alice, I told you to shut the moth up," The cat spat sharply, tail flicking from side to side in irritation. The other creatures, impossibly numerous and still quite with ease fitting in the House, sensed the fear in Alice and they themselves became tense. Crow, who'd taken his place in the house itself, glanced about nervously from his perch on the suddenly elongated rafters above.

"Now Dinah, I can't be back in time for supper if you tarry on such silly things as Lucy….." Poor Alice had herself backed against the fireplace at this point….. But her fear had done well. Lucy was gone even from her sight. Dinah sat back, satisfied, and grinning widely as she leapt to the mantelpiece and slid through the mirror as though it had been mist.

Alice glanced about nervously, finding that a great many of her creatures had become contorted forever with the fear that she had exuded. And Alice crawled up to the mirror as she had before, pushed against it, beckoning silently, commandingly, with her sword for her creatures to follow as she disappeared into the disgustingly real world. It was time to check in with her family. Alice smiled as she heard Crow urging her slaves through the mirror.

…………………………………………………………………………

The look on her mother's face when she, garbed in crown and all, came through the mirror followed by beasts of impossible size, was one not even the distorted little Alice would ever be able to forget. It was a look of complete horror and even indignation that pleased the fourteen year old quite a bit, sharpened her bloodlust, and quickened her boiling pulse. The fear on her family's face as they gathered in the front room to look at their daughter… or whatever she was, at this point, with outright fear . This sparked a distinctly predatory instinct within Alice's most primal impulses.

"Dinah said you'd be afraid," the young woman said with a sickly sweet smile and an unnerving twinkle in her cold blue eyes. Her pale, petite fingers traced the hilt of her sword, touched on the blade. It drew blood as red as garnet to stain her creamy white skin. The smile was slowly expanding, like syrup in cold weather. The fear expanded too, only much more quickly then Alice's increasingly dangerous façade. It could be likened to the spread of one's condensing breath on a cold window….. Unlike condensing breath; however, the fear did not fade.

Alice lunged and her mother screamed as the sword quite deliberately graced her arm, drawing the faintest of blood. Alice looked almost like a giant to her mother, and to the creatures by the mirror, she looked like their wonderful queen…. She had to be, for to whom else could they turn at this point?

"Mother, I know you tried. Oh Daddy…" She turned on a heel to face him, letting the back of her shoe scrape the thin, oriental carpet.

"Don't try to stop me. You're going to die anyway."

Her father was staring, gulped……. He had indeed been about to defend his wife…. But he did not have the sword, or the creatures that aided Alice. Most of them were harmless, and in this world, she had hardly any control over what happened to their generally clumsy, gentle natures, but they did not know that. It was a good thing they were afraid, really. Anita had almost fainted as Crow had squeezed through the mirror. There were others behind him, looking through the looking-glass eagerly.

"Alice, dear, please don't do this! Come back to us, sweet child! We have supper ready for your return. How we've missed you!" Her mother kneeled before her daughter with outspread arms. There, in her eyes, was genuine love. She missed her daughter, who her daughter used to be. Couldn't they pretend that Wonderland wasn't there? No, that was what had made Alice what she was now. She would have to accept Alice for what she was and work with what she had. The woman could only hope that her eldest and her husband would catch on.

She continued relentlessly, "I know Wonderland is real, dear, but you don't need that place, really, do you, sweet child?"

For the vaguest, briefest moment, Alice was seven years old again. Her eyes became comprehensive. Things became clear, the glassiness was gone. She was inquisitive and mature for her age, as she had always been. Hope leapt up in the hearts that made up her family and behind her many a creature looked relieved. Crow released a breath he did not know he'd been holding. They were all so happy… this little girl, could she really be sweet? This was something to be content over, and indeed they were.

Well, Dinah didn't like it, not one bit. "She" saw Alice wavering toward the love that was her family, saw the child within, attempting to break forward. Dinah was losing control, could feel it as "she" began to fade from Alice's mind. The cat let out a low snarl as the fourteen year old she'd been driving fell into the arms of her mother

"Alice, they will betray you. They will forget you again. You know it. Don't let them trick you, girl, you know what they will do. Remember what they did before? They said you were a liar!"

"But Dinah…." Alice whispered for a confused, tense moment as the warmth of her mother lifted her up.

"They wanted to send you away! They'll send you to the Nutters' House just when you think they believe you!"

The girl's eyes glassed over after a painful moment of indecision and the sword that had almost slipped from her tiny fingers buried itself into her mother's back. All at once things were like they had been for the more recent past, only now they were much, much worse.

The screams that pierced the air were ones that merely elevated the maniac of a girl's more vicious manner. In a moment, her father was on his knees, begging for his life, or at least for Anita's. His eyes flickered momentarily over to the form of his shallowly breathing wife and the blood that was slowly but surely spreading over her dress, soaking her petticoats, pooling on the floor. Her father's words fell on ears deaf to any perception of good sense and now, love. She cut down her father, pulling the sword through his throat with a painfully slow tug. How had a girl so small, so petite, managed to bring him down? Simple, really, as crow had pecked at him, torn strips of flesh from his back, and ultimately forced him to the ground.

Anita was gripping a chair arm for support, screaming wildly and watching the massacre of her own flesh and blood occur by her own flesh and blood right before her very eyes. She found herself unable to tear her eyes from her father's stricken face as it rolled away from his neck, fell with a sickening thud to the floor, staring uselessly up at her. Horror still lingered in his dead, cold eyes. That was when her turn came.

The girl, with her bloodstained apron and pale, gleaming locks now tinted with red, strode slowly, eerily up to her sister. Dinah grinned malevolently, perched on the mantle piece, watching, waiting. The creatures about "her" were all watching tensely, for Crow would take them down if they ran. Most of them wanted to.

"Anita," She began silkily, "Remember when you used to listen to my stories? Remember the affection? Why did you let it go? Dinah had to come and save me, sweet sister. Now I fear you are in dire trouble." HEr fingers traced over the rim of her obsidian crown, a sign of power.

"Just kill me…."

"That would be too easy, now wouldn't it?"

"Alice, Mother loved you, and you killed her. You are too far gone. Nothing I could say would change it," Anita's words, so laced with irritation earlier that very day, held only fatigue. It was the kind of haggard tone that a person so old and so in pain with age that they felt life was not worth living anymore. They just wanted to die. Anita just wanted to die.

Alice blinked, but her eyes did not clear this time. There was no more hope for her. She was indeed too far gone, damaged like a raped child.

"Do it," Dinah ordered sharply. And Alice complied that very instant. Hesitation was dashed, her family was gone. She held no emotional ties to the world but for……..

"White Kitty, Black Kitty," Alice called out gently. She had stopped calling the white cat Snowdrop a long time ago…. It was too annoying a name for her. The cats came running, the bells about their necks jingling. They came at the promise of Alice feeding them but even the cats were unnerved by the stench of death. Alice's sweetly smiling face and her suddenly inviting posture brought them forward, Black Kitty first, White Kitty just barely.

"Dinah, look at your kittens! Aren't they just lovely?" She crooned, picking up the black cat and holding her against he bloody apron.

"Lovely," the wicked cat replied with a grin, "just fine, but we best be off to Wonderland, my dear."

"Right, right," she answered to the air as White Kitty rubbed up against her leg.

Crow, meanwhile, was pecking down bits of what was left of Alice's broken family, and only because he knew he was to clean up after Alice. They were just bodies anyway, right? Yes, just bodies….. But what about the countless others that would follow. Were they already just bodies, too?


	5. A Pretty Little Girl

WARNING: FILLER. EEEWWWW. Filler. Too. Much. Filler. PEOPLE, PLEASE, PLEASE, I NEED SUGGESTIONS.

Author's Notes: Hi people! Uhm… hi! Anyway, thank you for the wondermus reviews. Yes, I'm glad the story didn't just go on with monotonous bloodshed and the like. I do like where this is going very much and I can't wait to work with Darren more.

Oh… BLACK SKITTLES! I love you. Relaly I do. You care about my name! As it were, yes, there is going to be a LOT more of Darren.. and I'll never tell you where I'll go with him and Alice… though I've got it darkly set up. In any case, reviews like yours inspire me. Just what I needed to speed me up.

BY THE BY…. The mention of periods and menstruation and stuff…. Will be present in this chapter, because it would be really senseless to ignore. If you're a childlike person and can't handle it… leave. --;

Disclaimer: Come ON people, get the drill. Or I'll hurt you.

If you happen to take any of my characters, I will hurt you MORE. In fact, I will draw my Spork of DOOOOM and stab you repeatedly.

Chapter Five: A Pretty Little Girl

Darren always loved how things were in Wonderland. Everything was so old fashioned, and yet… So different from anything in history, at least as far as he knew. It wasn't as if he really paid attention during history class. It was too bad he had to be back before dinner and his dad came home and actually had a mind to wonder where he was. He did that spontaneously. The boy wasn't going to take any chances. Sprawled out on his bed on his back, he stared up at his ceiling contemptuously as though it possibly could have had something to do with the lack of friends.

Darren was warring with something else as well. When was he going to tell Bridget and Mason about Wonderland? He heaved a sigh as a cop car blared down the dirty street outside his window, allowing his eyes to fall shut for one blissful moment before a car pulled up in the driveway and the front door slammed open. Dad was home. Fuck that. He rolled onto his belly and propped himself up, yawning languidly and glancing at a pile of unfinished, unopened homework next to his bed. Things would happen as they always did. Dad would come in, pretend to care about how school went and how bad his grades were, and then go back downstairs and yell at his drunk wife for God knew what reason.

Then he would, quite predictably, go to a night club, drink himself into a stupor, and drive himself into the unkempt bushes in front of the house at three in the morning. Darren would have to go outside and get him into bed. Or he'd just let his dad puke himself to sleep in his car. There was nothing wrong with that, as far as he saw it. It wasn't his job to raise his parents.

Darren slid from his bed and pushed his untouched homework under it, rubbing his forehead wearily. He heard his father storming down the hall, growled as he attempted to open his son's door without knocking, customarily angered at the fact that it was locked- as if it'd been locked specifically against him. Indeed, it had.

"Darren, open that damned door up before I knock it down!" a sonorous voice roared outside, as it did at least once a week in that precise tone, using those precise words.

"Right, right," Darren managed in a resigned tone, unlocking the door against an impenetrable, bipolar force just outside.

His father slammed open the door with a force that almost knocked Darren backward, making deeper the dent in the wall created by the door knob. He flinched, but for the most part, his shoulders hunched forward. He had learned early on not to fight back…. He didn't dare look at the scar on his arm, lest his father think he was… implying something. It didn't matter that it wasn't fair. He'd learned this too. Life just wasn't fair. Sure, he had Bridget and Mason….. But they couldn't be at his house. He wouldn't allow them to. He roughed this alone. All alone. Today, his father wouldn't even relent when his son submitted, and Darren caught the fire in his eyes. He rubbed his own as though there was nothing her could do about it and submitted tiredly. Tonight, he would call his closest companions, if he survived this beating, of course…..

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Crow watched as Alice looked around, pleased at the bloodletting. Pleased indeed. The dead forms of her mutilated family hung about the room in a manner that was strikingly pretty to the young woman. Smoothing her skirts with her small, pale hands, Alice smiled down at the blood on her previously bleach white apron. The giant corvidae hopped uneasily from one taloned foot to the other, noticing that none looked particularly pleased with Alice's work. She was an enigma, alright. Even as the little army in the room filed out, still pouring from the mirror, she confused him. Alice's step was graceful, yet something about the way each joint slid in and out of place was _wrong _somehow. Her childish skipping could not be seen as blissful. It was oppressive and it was dark. Everything about this girl was strange and corrupted and he felt it pour from her, thick and repulsive as the blood of a sick man pouring from a gaping sore on his body. Her eyes were glazed, as though she was trying to focus on something that was just out of reach of her gaze and her mouth was always quirked in this insufferable, insane smile. It gave Crow the nasty feeling that he didn't DARE let her from his sight. That would be dangerous.

"Red Knight, get me the looking-glass in the front room, won't you, dear?" She asked lazily of the red knight. He knew better then to question her. Crow realized that Alice's voice was not much better then the rest of her. Soft and silky, her voice rang past her lips with a quality vaguely reminiscent of bells, and yet, beneath the soothing tones, a cold, crazy, bloodthirsty sort of vacancy lay, like a pit with spikes at the bottom concealed by a picknik blanket and very good food. Everything about this girl was distorted. She was a broken girl, and Crow knew very well that he was the only one that saw this so clearly. When he bent to her wishes, it was with the knowledge that he was humoring a person who was no more aware of what she was really doing then a blind person is of dark and light.

Crow was also learning rapidly that Alice had more friends then "Dinah." There was Lucy, too, but there were others. Elise and April, whatever they were, were to be taken seriously. When Alice went inside to find her kitties, whom he was certainly surprised to find were real, she began to talk rapidly to what was obviously a pair of people. Well, it wasn't before long that everybody from the Looking Glass House had come into this strange world where there were no talking flowers. Crow had suspected that there would have been more like Alice. He didn't even see a single talking beetle. This perplexed the great bird, even as much as Alice's strange actions next. The girl crouched down in the field as if searching for something…. What could it be? Hopping around in confusion and scaring a great many of the talking flowers and toves from the Looking Glass House into a small hysteria, he blinked, cawed a little. After a few minutes of this, Alice stepped back. Crow relaxed. Why did he feel relieved?

A massive tornado burst from the ground where Alice had been standing mere moments ago, causing the girl to giggle. Why indeed.

"Dinah, Dinah! Look, Dinah! Just where you said it would be…. Just where you said it would be. Now," Alice turned finally on the terrified mass of creatures that stretched across the field, filled the house, and she picked up two small cats, one black and one white, "Come, come down to Wonderland. And don't forget that looking-glass, my lovelies!"

Crow noticed how careful they were not to forget as each one filed down into a pit. For some reason, he felt that it was a lot like the pit that hid beneath Alice's picknick blanket of blissful carelessness.

…………………………………………………………………………………………

"Why did I survive?" Darren moaned painfully to himself, sprawled out back-down on his bed, staring vacantly up at the ceiling and beyond trying to ignore the black and blue pain that speckled his pale body. His mind was past searching for a solution when he knew there was only one. Police had not helped much, only made everybody mad. He didn't want to be put in foster care again. The family had tried to force religion on him. With a deep sigh that hurt his lungs, Darren knew Wonderland was the alternative. The only one. Tonight he would call Bridget and Mason. Bridget was the only one who ever made him really truly smile, really truly laugh. She always had this sunny gleam in her eye that most would not guess would appeal to him. Mason always had his sense of twisted humor and always sided with him. They didn't have anything to disagree on. These two people were the only ones he cared about.

Leaning up with a painful moan, Darren picked up his bedside phone, and began to dial his best friend's house.

…………………………………………………………………………………………..

"Wonderland… When do we go?" Bridget had picked up her cell phone with one of her winning smiles when she had glanced at the caller ID. Darren had finally called, and she'd been worried about him. What had his father done this time? What had he done to himself? She always had to wonder. His voice on the receiver relieved her entirely. He sounded… what…. Happy? Didn't he always sound happy when he called her? Yes, but something was different, and she sensed it with immediacy. When he had mentioned going to Wonderland with her, she had laughed and responded in mock-enthusiasm. When he started to sound serious, though, she got a little confused.

"What? Darren, c'mon. What's going on? Mason's there too? Oh, hi Mason! Tell Darren that there isn't a Wonderland, will you?" She laughed a little, " He's being crazier then usual."

Bridget had sounded a little relieved when Mason had taken the phone from Darren. Darren was always doing or saying convincingly insane things around Mason, right? Of course. That was all it was. But then Darren's voice sounded. He wanted her to come over, and suddenly, he didn't sound so content. She realized with a shiver that Mason had never confirmed that he would tell Darren to stop sounding so crazy.

………………………………………………………………………………………

"She's here," Mason said with one of his lazy smiles as he glanced out the window of Darren's bedroom, "and I have to wonder how she snuck out like she did." He raised a brow in that same casual languidness as he always had, running a hand through his chocolate colored hair that hung just past his ears, waving outward at the end. His lazy brown eyes, always glazed with this lack of caring to do much of anything that took energy, managed to look a little more intent this evening. Tonight, his eyes did not smile. Tonight, something weird had happened. He didn't think fireplaces could be portals to different worlds….. Apparently, he was wrong. And Darren did look a little crazy.

Darren, meanwhile, sat up intently, looking out his window and hailing Bridget over with a, "pssst!" She had looked around, her thick, deep orange hair following the movement. Her bright eyes found him. She looked a little distressed and he cursed mentally. She was always so happy, so why had he done something stupid and got her so worried?

"Darren," she whispered heatedly, the smile that came with such usual ease not touching her small red lips as she darted up to his window and slid into his room with the kind of stealth that came with a panicked purposefulness, "what's going-" Her words were cut short by the bruises that she saw on Darren's face when they came into the light. It was horrific… and he was bleeding, even had a black eye. He silenced her with a finger to his lips as though he'd been expected just that reaction.

Mason, who was leaning on the door of Darren's room, arms crossed carelessly over his chest, shook his head lightly. "Better sit down. He idn't gonna tell you anything you're gonna believe right away." She sat. Most of the time, Bridget found herself laughing at anything Mason told her to do, but the oppressive atmosphere of the bedroom itself shocked her into obedience. Darren sat down next to her with a soberness that he saved only for the worst of occasions.

"We can't stay here."

"What?" She looked at him, brows furrowing.

Darren found it difficult not to smile at her with her little pout and her dusting of freckles; the effect was cute. But the occasion called for a different attitude.

"Sweets, we have to go to Wonderland. Now. It means leaving your family… everything you ever knew."

"What?" She repeated, staring at him in complete disbelief.

"He's not kidding you," Mason said with a matter-of-fact shrug, opening the door and pointing down the hallway to the living room- at the fireplace.

"What?"

……………………………………………………………………………………………

Mason had been particularly easy to convince about the existence of Wonderland. It was kind of odd, true, but there wasn't much he wouldn't believe. Darren had survived, of all things. That had seemed impossible, though for a change he wouldn't voice what he thought. There was no point in making things for his friend worse, as he saw it. Now he had to focus on getting Bridget to believe… and then get her to go to Wonderland and leave her family, leave everything. Eh, for him it wasn't too hard to believe and living with a crappy foster family wasn't exactly what he considered a great thing- he could go anywhere he wanted without strings attached.

But Darren would not leave without Bridget. If he did not leave, he would die. Lazy Mason usually wasn't the one to care about anything or anyone, but Darren was different, and so he got up off his lazy ass and rose as far as it would allow him to the occasion. This wasn't just any occasion, so he was almost standing up straight. Besides, Bridget had a big enough imagination, right? Right? Indeed….

The repeated "what" was not promising, though, and so he'd done the only thing he knew how to do. Already he was striding down the hall and standing in front of the fireplace. Darren followed at a mincing pace, glancing around nervously as though his drunk mother could comprehend a thing they were doing even if she was in the room.

In moments, they all stood there, facing the fireplace. Darren looked nervous and very tired. Bridget looked confused. Mason sighed.

"Okay, in there is Wonderland. Darren showed me. Darren, you gonna show her inside? C'mon, breathe, man. Bridget, listen up," he took on an air of commanding that surprised the pair of them into action. Darren took Bridget's hand and she gave him a worried look. Usually, they were so loving and giggly and affectionate around each other. Even around easy-going Mason, this kind of tension stoked the flames of his own doubts. He had few, so that was all very well and good, but…..

Darren was gone in a flash. Mason heard Bridget cry out in surprise as she was dragged through the scorched, old brick wall of the fireplace. He followed them.

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"Oh Dinah, look!" Alice clapped her hands together quite with glee as she landed neatly on the floor of Wonderland, glancing around dazedly. This was her world… Or soon it would be, at the very least. Smoothing her bloodied skirts as many of her army of… creatures landed about her in quick succession. When she looked down to see Dinah, pick her up, pet her, she almost dropped the feline.

"Oh my, Dinah, I don't mean to be rude, my dear, but I do believe you've gained weight… you feel a touch like Black Kitty or White Kitty…"

She felt Crow hop up behind her and turned with a slow, lazy smile. She began lightly, "Dear Crow, doesn't Dinah look well fed to you?" Crow looked down in surprise. Why did this cat, striped and grinning from ear to ear, suddenly look REAL? Why was he THERE were before he was a mere figment of the girl's imagination? He bobbed up and down.

"Yes, Alice….. You always wanted to know where I went when I died…where all of me went, and now I'm here. Oh, Alice, dear, why don't you take me down that hall? Yes, that one. Make sure the others are following. There's a good girl…." Alice carried the cat in the crook of her arm with an eerily loving smile, her two other cats as well as a multitude of creatures followed her closely.

"Now, dear, you know what needs to be done…" the Cheshire Cat leapt from Alice's arms and looked up at her with a wicked grin. She looked at him with sharp recognition blaring in her mind.

"Oh, my… Dinah, I do believe you've changed, Dinah…" Tension lingered in the air and Alice, in a state of confusion that did not bode well, lobbed off the head of one of the mutated, uprooted flowers following her….. and yet… when she looked at the cat again, her voice had not changed from that of a loving, dear old friend.

"Oh dear, Cheshire kitty, I know what I must do… Bring me the looking-glass!"

A number of knights and pawns of various colors who looked increasingly contorted, with spikes growing from their bodies in random places and snakes replacing their tongues, stumbled forward with the mirror in tow. Dainty Alice danced forward and plucked up the thing as though it weight nothing and threw it to the ground. It smashed into nothingness, but not before everything that she'd left behind expanded and stretched the very essence of Wonderland… No… the World of Wonderglass. Alice's house was somewhere in there, and so were the forests which she had so cleanly distorted. The fourteen year old giggled and skipped in the direction of a certain glass table, and nobody behind her dared protest where she went, did not dare impede her. They simply followed.

When she dusted off her hands that night, laying down on a patch of grass blackened by her own feet, she knew, somewhere in the vagueness of her mind, that things were really looking up. For her, at least. She did not know that there was somebody else who had the same thing she did, the power to change things about them to their own liking. Well, she was going to find out.


End file.
